Of Love and Family
by Emily31594
Summary: Sweet, random Carlisle/Esme one-shots. Canon. Thanks for reading, Emily.
1. Falling Was Fate

Falling had always brought her to him.

The first time she fell, she was sixteen. She knew, admittedly, that a girl climbing a tree at sixteen was unsuited to the society in which she lived. But unsuited she was, and so she climbed, higher and higher, until her left foot slipped. And she fell all the way to the ground. She remembered a distinct feeling of pain, and blacked out.

The first things she saw when she woke were his eyes. Warm, golden, and filled with worry. As she became more aware, she could feel her mother's hand holding hers, and the distant chatter of nurses as they checked her for other injuries. "Who are you?" she asked.

Falling had always brought her to him.

The second and last time she fell, she was twenty-six. Her husband was abusive, her parents uncaring, and her baby, dead. And so she jumped off a cliff, and fell, yet again, all the way to the ground. She remembered a distinct feeling of pain, greater than before, and blacked out.

The first things she saw when she woke were his eyes, still warm and golden, and filled with that same worry from all those years ago. Something in her gave her a sense of déjà vu, told her that she had been here before, seen this before. She remembered him. And so the first word she uttered in her new life, fittingly, was his name, "Carlisle?"

Falling had always brought her to him.

For Esme, falling was fate.

_Thanks for reading! This was originally a one-shot, but then I realized this would make a nice introduction to a series of random Carlisle/Esme one-shots. Reviews always make my day._

_Emily_

_Also, as a blanket disclaimer, I do not own __Twilight __or any of its characters etc._


	2. For Many Things

Chapter 2: For Many Things

"What are you working on?" Carlisle asked as he bent over Esme's shoulder to observe the masses of papers and pencils sprawled on his desk.

"Our next house," she replied, sighing as Carlisle caressed her other shoulder and pressed a kiss to her neck. She turned around in his desk chair to briefly place her lips on his.

Esme frowned, "There are three extra rooms in this new house, am I correct?"

"Yes, my love," he responded, brushing an errant piece of her hair behind her ear, "there are three."

"Excellent," she said, "one for your study, one as a music room for Edward's piano, and the third for Rosalie and Emmett. I thought she might like some space of her own, for whatever she chooses to put in it."

Carlisle nodded thoughtfully, with the air of one who has noticed a potential flaw in a plan.

"What?" Esme asked.

"Oh, nothing, love, I leave the house planning to you. You are so very good at it."

She grinned, "What is it?"

"Ah," Carlisle planted a kiss on her forehead, "you know me too well. I was just thinking that perhaps you might consider placing the Hale and Masen rooms on opposite sides of the house."

"They're fighting again?" she asked in a resigned tone. These past few weeks had been better than any others previously, and she had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that they were done with the somewhat juvenile arguments between her two oldest children.

"I don't know that I would call it fighting, so much as glaring at each other over Emmett's shoulders."

Esme sighed, silently praying that they would learn to get along _someday_. "I suppose we should go talk to them."

"Yes, I suppose we should," he agreed. He offered his hand to her, and she grasped it as she stood, brushing frayed eraser trimmings from her skirt.

"Ladies first, of course," he declared with a quick bow, letting her pass him as she walked to the door.

"You are so old-fashioned," she teased as she spun around to kiss him on the cheek.

He grasped one of her hands and kissed the back with a grin. "Yes, I am, and you love me for it."

"Among many other things," she countered, a smile playing on her lips. "Not the least of which is that adorable accent you use when trying to prove to me that you're old-fashioned."

Carlisle had opened his mouth to reply when a crash two floors below them reminded them of their task. Esme started down the stairs, smile gone, to see what her children were arguing over this time, hopeful that they had not broken any more of her favorite furniture.

With a chuckle, Carlisle hurried down the stairs after her.

_Thanks for reading! _

_P.S. Finding reviews in my email inbox makes me smile._


	3. No Regrets

Chapter 3: No Regrets

"Esme, love, I really must leave for work."

"Mmmm?" Esme's response was muffled by the fabric of his shirt, her face resting on his chest.

To avoid the uncharacteristically sunny weather of their home, he had taken to the evening shifts, from just before sunset to just before sunrise. Esme often joked that, though they never got to see the sunset together, it was fitting that they always got to see the sunrise. He continued, "It is almost four, my shift starts in half an hour."

"So soon?" Esme protested.

Carlisle frowned, and bent forward to kiss the top of her head. "I'm sorry, my love."

"Don't apologize," Esme reassured him, "you love your work." His work, she knew, was how he found peace within himself, just as she found hers by caring for her family.

"I love you more," he countered softly.

"I know that. Go ahead, I'll be fine. We have forever." Esme sat up slowly; Carlisle did the same.

"Indeed, we do," he agreed. "And now that I have a family, forever suddenly seems worthwhile." After all, striving for inner peace was one thing, but having a reason to keep doing so forever was entirely another. He shuddered momentarily in remembrance of his lonely days. How nice it was, now, to have someone to come home to.

Esme stood to walk him to the front of the house, pulling Carlisle out of his musings. She sighed when they reached the door, smiled at his customary "I love you", kissed him deeply for a moment, then sank into the chair that sat by the door for this purpose.

_Only one of the conceivably infinite days that I will do this_, she thought, _and yet, however much I miss him, I cannot bring myself to regret one bit of my new life. _Esme was unaware, of course, that Carlisle's thoughts, as he drove to the hospital, were identical.


	4. Memory

Chapter 4: Memory

I had experienced a wonderful day at work. A patient had come in for the second time, his symptoms unimproved after using the medicine prescribed by another doctor. Due to my improved senses, I had correctly identified his disease and saved his life. These were the days when I felt truly blessed. What I was had actually saved a human life, not ended it. These cases always brought a sense of redemption, of forgiveness. They reminded me that, whatever my faults, I was at least trying to make the best of my situation. I entered the house, therefore, in good spirits. Until Jasper walked up to me. He looked terribly upset.

"What's wrong," I asked, as I turned around to shut the door.

"It's Esme," he said.

My hand froze on the doorknob, thousands of horrible possibilities running through my mind, and I spun around. "What's wrong? Is she alright? Where is she?" I gushed.

"She's in your room," he replied. "She began to feel all sorts of horrible emotions when she got back from town, and ran upstairs. She won't let anyone in, not even Edward."

I raced the rest of the way up the stairs, the human speed I'd been using all day suddenly insufficient.

I stopped at the door to our room and knocked gently. "Esme?" I asked.

There was no response, just a muffled sob.

I opened the door to reveal Esme sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, sobs shaking her body.

"Esme," I whispered, appalled at the pain in her posture. I walked slowly towards her and sank down to wrap my arms around her as she looked up at me with profound sadness.

"Shhhh," I comforted, rocking her back and forth, waiting patiently for her to explain. She hid her face in my chest, seeming to calm and then get upset again in equal turns.

"I just went to town to pick up some new books for Jasper." She straightened her neck to look at me, and her jaw tensed, slightly, but enough that I could see the change. "There was a woman there-I do not know her name, but I recognized her from that community dinner we went to." She took a deep breath. "She was pregnant, probably five or six months, and she had..." The end of this thought was lost as she squeezed her eyes shut and stopped abruptly, though I sensed now where her story was going, and why the experience had upset her so. Still, I waited for her to finish.

"She had...there were marks, on her wrists and her neck. She had long sleeves and had put her hair down, but I could still see them." Esme leaned her head on my shoulder, staring at nothing. "After all, I remember."

My arms tightened reflexively around her, my head settling gently on top of hers.

"It always seemed unfair that the easiest human memories for us to retain are the unpleasant ones," I said a few moments later, partly as an apology.

"Yes," she agreed. "It's unsurprising, though, in a way, that pain often makes the deepest mark. Jasper must be thoroughly frightened of me right now."

I smiled minutely and kissed the top of her head. "He's worried about his mother," I corrected.

I could feel her answering smile under my chin.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes briefly falling shut.

I whispered my reply into her hair, though I was sure she heard it. "Forever."

_If you don't know Esme's background, that probably didn't make much sense. She had an abusive husband, and escaped from him to have their child, only to have her son die soon after._


	5. More Each Day

_Here is another one-shot. Thanks for reading, and enjoy. Emily_

Esme's pov…

With Renesmee settled for a nap, her mother and father staring adoringly at her from either side of her bed, I wandered towards Carlisle's office. Once I had climbed the stairs and was at his door, I knocked gently, "Carlisle?"

"Yes," he called, the sound coming from somewhere near his desk.

I pushed the door open to find Carlisle in his black leather chair, looking up at me expectantly, an open medical journal resting on his lap.

"Nothing. Renesmee is sleeping. Bella and Edward are standing next to her bed. I don't think they've looked away yet."

He smiled at me and held out his hand. He used my offered hand to stand to gather both of my hands in his.

"I am glad they are so happy. Finally, everything is the way it should be. They deserve it," he replied, leaning forward to give me a quick kiss.

"Yes, they do," I concluded. I glanced at the discarded journal. "What were you reading?"

"A journal article about preventative medicine for patients with a high risk of developing certain types of cancer. Very interesting. The doctors who wrote it work at one of my old hospitals."

I nodded and smiled.

"What?" he asked.

"You get very excited about all of these medical advancements, don't you?" I teased.

He just smiled, shook his head, and replied, "I am glad that you find it so amusing, my love."

"Not amusing," I corrected swiftly. "Sweet." I shook my head once. "What an interesting treatise on the power of change and discovery you could write, were you allowed."

He grinned. "Yes, change of that kind is fascinating when viewed through the lens of someone who has experienced it in real time." He pursed his lips in thought. "Perhaps it _is _sad that it still excites me after all this time."

"Not at all, Carlisle. It's wonderful that time has not worn away your passion for your work."

He shook his head bemusedly and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips. "I would be very dull and unhappy by now if I lost my taste for the things I love." His hands slowly moved to the sides of my face as mine wound underneath his arms to rest against his back. "Like you, my dear. I love you more every day."

I smiled back at him and reconnected our lips for a few moments.

"I have to see this preoccupation with watching Renesmee sleep which you observed in Bella and Edward," Carlisle said after a minute or so, pulling back to rest our foreheads together.

"It's enchanting," I replied, picturing the new parents halted in the same position beside their daughter.

"Lead the way, then," he told me, turning so that only one of his arms embraced me, and we walked slowly together to the door.

_Thank you for reading, and thanks to all of my reviewers. Emily_


	6. One of Many

Carlisle and Esme lay, his arms wrapped around her, on the tan leather couch in his home office.

"Happy anniversary," said Carlisle, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you, and to you as well," Esme replied, sighing with contentment. "By this time tomorrow, we will be on the island," she mused, even happier at the thought.

"Yes," Carlisle acknowledged, moving one hand so that he could smooth her hair, "it's been far too long."

"But I wouldn't change anything that has happened."

"Nor would I," he agreed, "Jasper and Alice are most certainly worth it."

"I do hope that Jasper will adapt more easily than he has so far," Esme added with motherly concern, a worried expression replacing one of comfort.

Carlisle used a free hand to lift her chin, staring into her eyes. "Don't worry, my love. He will improve, I'm sure."

Esme sighed. "I just wish he was as sure as you are."

Carlisle nodded thoughtfully. "That, I think, will be the key." Then his expression became more serious.

"What is it?" Esme asked, turning to place a hand on his cheek.

"Nothing, my love," he assured her, "I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"You," he began, smiling again, and twisting his head to press a kiss to her palm, "The children. How wonderful it is to have a family that I love."

Esme smiled kindly. "We all love you too, you know."

"I know," he replied, "but I do not understand what I did to deserve it."

"Kind, brilliant, selfless things," Esme vowed. "Far too many for me to tell you about all of them. You will just have to believe me."

Carlisle's expression softened.

"So," Esme continued, turning to rest against his arm again, eyes twinkling, "why don't you think about our anniversary instead?"

"Alright," he agreed, turning his face to look at her. "One of many." Both smiled.

_Thanks for reading, and thank you again to my reviewers: cecills, EliseShaw, Umbrella-ella, and XOXO-RaNdoM-pIxIE-OXOX. Emily_


	7. My Angel

"What do you suppose we should call it?" Esme asked, walking over to sit next to Carlisle on the cream couch.

"I'm not entirely sure," he replied, kissing her cheek in greeting. "We cannot accurately use any human term."

"No, indeed," she agreed, sighing as Carlisle absentmindedly traced patterns on her back.

"Perhaps we should create our own," suggested Esme after a moment. "You are, after all, _Stregoni Benefici_," she teased, nuzzling his nose with hers.

"Yes, I suppose I am," he acquiesced, smiling at her.

"Do we really have to call it anything?" Esme asked.

"No, my love, one unique title is certainly sufficient. But I must tell you again what it meant to me." He paused to kiss Esme deeply, but quickly. "And so I will call it exactly what it was. The day my life truly began."

Esme leaned towards his to press a chaste kiss to his lips, her eyes softened and vulnerable. "I don't deserve you," she said.

"No, Esme," he told her. "I do not deserve you."

Esme smiled beautifully and collapsed back into their embrace. Carlisle leaned forward; burying his face in her hair as he gently rubbed her back. They held each other, calmly, peacefully, because neither of them had anywhere they would rather be.

"I love you," she said.

"As I love you," he vowed, holding her hands and slowly trailing kisses from behind her ear to her collarbone.

"I have something to show you," Esme confessed to his shoulder, somewhat reluctant to move.

Carlisle lifted his head and looked at her curiously. "I'll be right back," she promised, taking off at vampiric speed to their room. Once she had reached the door, she went into the closet to find what she was looking for. A small, tan box that looked rather worn. Esme opened the box, removed a piece of paper, and then replaced the box and turned towards the stairs. Once she had reached the couch again, she carefully sat down next to Carlisle, resting her head on his right shoulder as she handed him the paper.

"What is this?" he queried.

"Something that I wrote on this day, years ago, the day I awoke."

Carlisle used both hands to unfold the letter shakily, and then wrapped one arm around her.

_I am Esme Anne Platt Evanson. _The last word of her former name had a shaky line drawn through it, as though someone had wanted to cross it out, but was too emotional to do so calmly._ For three years, my life was terrifying. I married a man who _At this point the writing became shaky again and stopped abruptly, beginning again a line below. _Then, a miracle happened. I would have a child. But wishes do not always come true, and my son died just four days ago. And so I jumped off a cliff. I had not meant to go there, truly. After all, I was not really thinking at all. I am not sure that I am right now. What else could I have done? No one else cared. I opened my eyes to see another miracle. My angel. There Carlisle Cullen was, staring at me with great care and worry. But I do not deserve it. I have loved him since I was sixteen, but I do not deserve his love. I have found the best of my new kind. Stregoni Benefici, they call him. "The Helpful Vampire". Only an angel would even think of such a thing. Why would he want me? I am nothing. Why would this dream come true, if the other could not? What makes me worthy of having Carlisle and Edward as family? Carlisle, an angel, and Edward, exactly the kind of man I had hoped my son would grow to be. _And there the letter stopped.

"I was sobbing at that point," Esme explained.

Carlisle turned to her, a look of incredulity on his face. "You wrote this the day your change ended?" he asked in disbelief.

Esme nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Oh, Esme," he said, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I wanted you to see it," she whispered into his neck, "because you have erased all of that doubt. You healed me. You made me who I am today."

He simply drew her closer to him. "I would do anything for you," he pledged.

"You have done everything," she told him. "You are my angel. You always have been."


	8. Time to Leave

Esme's pov…

I was content. Listening to Edward play piano always warmed my mood. Rosalie, happier now than I had ever seen her, had found a way to be more content in this life. Emmett. A forever cheerful and boisterous being, accepting of his new life, and ecstatic to be with Rosalie and to have a new family. I worried far less about Rosalie than I had, and I hardly worried for Emmett's happiness. He had no trouble adjusting emotionally to our way of life. Physically, of course, he had his problems. But he would learn, and Rosalie was only too willing to teach him.

Edward I worried about more frequently. He, too, had been changed by Emmett. Suddenly, he had found a brother. Always eager for a fight or game, Emmett pushed him to enjoy life rather than observe it. However, outside of these happier moments, Edward held on to his dark outlook on this life and his fate, and while I saw eternal days, he saw eternal nights. Listening to him play music, inhabiting a lighter side of his mind for a time, I often pondered how much happier he would be if he had a companion. How could I not consider this, seeing how entirely Rosalie had changed when she was with Emmett, how entirely I had changed when I had found Carlisle? My philosophical musings were interrupted, perhaps fittingly, by a human invention. The telephone. Before the first ring had expired, I was standing next to the phone, my hand outstretched. I could not explain to a human, however, my haste in answering, and so I stood still for the several seconds it would have taken a human to reach the phone. The piano's melodies ceased. When I felt it was safe to do so, I carefully removed the phone from the hook.

"Hello?"

"Esme," called the familiar voice. I smiled.

"Yes, Dr. Cullen," I teased. I could hear him smile on the other end of the line.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

"What's happened?" I asked, now frowning slightly. Edward appeared about five feet away and looked at me quizzically.

"Nothing serious, my love, but I think we may need to move."

"Why?" I asked.

Carlisle paused for a moment, and then explained, "Several people today have questioned my age. I am beginning to raise suspicions. A nurse just asked if I was actually twenty-five when I began working here."

"That's all right," I assured him. "It was time, anyway." A pronounced knock at Carlisle's office door cut off my next comment.

"I'm sorry," he told me, "I have to go. We can talk when I get home."

"Yes," I promised, "see you soon." I carefully replaced the telephone and turned to Edward.

"I can tell Rosalie and Emmett, if you want," he offered.

"No, that's alright," I declared. "I will tell them."

A few hours later, I was sitting in the same chair as before, and returned to my original thoughts. Rosalie had not taken our flight from New York directly after her change lightly, and I had not truly expected this move to go over any better. I should have known that Emmett changed the equation. His genuine excitement at traveling to a new place with his family overruled her hate of the disadvantages that this life brought. Not only was she willing to go; she was almost happy to. I smiled to myself for the hundredth time that day at how wonderfully Emmett had worked out. That thought, however, brought me again to worry for Edward and his happiness. Had he missed something, I wondered, in only living as a human for seventeen years? I did not blame Carlisle; he could not control Edward's fate. I only wished for Edward the same kind of love that Carlisle and I shared. If I deserved that kind of happiness, surely Edward did, too.

Suddenly, a perpetually welcome noise appeared; the steady hum of a well-kept car could be heard pulling into the drive. I was at the door just as the engine halted, and had opened it before he reached the doorway. Carlisle was home. He smiled bemusedly when he saw me standing in the doorway, the same place that I always stood when he arrived.

"Hello, my love," he said, embracing me quickly and then pulling back for a quick kiss. "How was your day?"

"Wonderful," I replied, turning with him to walk into the house. Carlisle placed one arm around my waist and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

"I'm glad," he said, still smiling.

"So we need to discuss where we are going next?" I asked.

"Yes," he agreed. "Once people start to get suspicious about my age, I've always found that it's best to leave soon, however much we might want to stay."

I turned my face to grin at him, my eyes twinkling. "Did you have a certain experience that taught you that?" I asked.

He grinned and kissed my hand playfully. "Well, I believe there was a Miss Esme Platt who was particularly difficult to leave," he explained with a somber expression. "I was all alone and she was very distracting. Kind, intelligent, happy," he paused to stroke my cheek with his thumb, "beautiful."

I threw my head back and laughed; Carlisle laughed with me.

"We really should decide where we are going," I suggested.

"Yes," he affirmed. "Why don't we let the children decide where they want to go next?" he looked around the empty room, as if searching for them. "By the way, how did they take it?"

"Wonderfully," I said. Carlisle seemed unsurprised.

"Emmett?" he guessed. I nodded.

My smile faded slowly. "I wish Edward would find someone," I told him.

"Yes, so do I," he said. "But Emmett has helped him, too."

"Emmett has helped all of us," I amended. He squeezed my hand in confirmation, then pulled me down to sit on the couch that we had reached. His arm slipped around me as I rested my head on his shoulder, and we sat in comfortable silence for several minutes. I considered my musings from earlier in the day.

"I was just thinking," I began, "that if Emmett could make Rosalie so much happier, than love would certainly transform Edward."

"It would," he agreed. Carlisle turned his face slowly and bent to rest his forehead on mine. "You changed me," he said.

"As you changed me," I replied, tilting my face slightly for a kiss. He placed his hands on both sides of my face as I wrapped my arms around his neck. After several perfect minutes, an abrupt noise interrupted us. Carlisle sighed laughingly; his eyes alight, as Emmett's massive form came into view. He stopped in front of the couch, an amused smile on his face. Rosalie, then Edward, followed behind him.

"Edward said there was something you wanted to ask us."

_Thanks for reading, and thanks again to my reviewers: cecills, Umbrella-ella, XOXO-RaNdoM-pIxIE-OXOX, babyk, EliseShaw, alybee, TrueImmortality, MaryCullen95, Dragonridingattorney43, and miss understood615._


	9. People to Care for Me

Esme's pov….

I always enjoyed Carlisle's office. Natural light wafted in from several windows spread throughout the room, displaying an impressive collection of books; Carlisle's history decorated anything left uncovered by shelves; and, perhaps best of all, his scent clung to every inch of it. Moreover, Carlisle always provided an excellent excuse for me to be in his study. In rather humanlike form, his office was always a mess. Today was no exception.

I walked into the office happily, closing a few medical journals and files and setting them back where they belonged, recapping and replacing stray pens. These were all common; he was dedicated to his work. Today, however, there were several unfamiliar sheets of paper spread out on his desk.

"Carlisle, what is this?" I called. A swirl of air followed my question.

"Take a look," he said from the doorway, smiling.

I turned to smile back indulgently, and then faced the desk again to look at the papers. On the top were two long sheets. Light markings revealed blueprints for a small cottage, each of the cozy rooms labeled for its purpose and containing sketches indicating where furniture would go. Beneath those were careful drawings of those furniture pieces. A bed, a couch, a fireplace. What took my breath away, though, was the last sheet. At first glance, it was a simple drawing, greens and blues and oranges and reds swirling in beautiful patterns. However, when one looked closer, those colors formed the shape of an island, tropical colors set against a backdrop of beautiful sea. And, above the island, scrawled in Carlisle's exquisite handwriting, were the words _Isle Esme_.

My hand froze on the drawing. Carlisle came up to me from the door and put an arm around me. He looked apprehensive. I could not fathom the reason.

"Isle Esme," I whispered. He nodded almost imperceptibly. "Isle Esme," I repeated. He looked even more worried.

"It's supposed to be beautiful in that area. We do not have to hide; no one will see us in the sun. And I thought Edward could use it as well, as a sort of sanctuary away from the thoughts of others. He -"

His explanation was cut short as I whirled around to hug him tightly. He looked somewhat bewildered, and settled for smoothing my hair as I gripped him tightly.

"You got me an island." I choked out through tears. Partly a statement; mostly a question. He nodded again. I was frozen. "Why?" I managed to whisper, my brain slowly beginning to work again.

"I love you," he said, kissing the top of my head. That was his only reason. That was all he needed. My yet healing mind unable to grasp the idea that someone cared for _me_, loved _me_ that much. Wanted _me_ to be happy just because he or she loved me.

"It's just so. . . so _new_ for me, to have someone who wants to do things like that for me. For someone to care that much," I explained. "I guess I don't really believe it yet."

"Well, I have forever to help you believe it. And I am not giving up," he promised, "not ever."

I slowly unfroze and turned to smile at him. "I like the sound of that," I said. I smiled inwardly as well. Some of the confidence that I had possessed at sixteen was slowly returning. I was becoming myself again. Changed permanently, of course, but more like the sixteen-year-old Esme than I had been in a long time.

Satisfied, it seemed, that I did not resent him for his gift, although only Carlisle would even consider the possibility, he pulled out the last part of the present: train tickets.

"We leave for the coast on Friday," he explained. "We'll be on the island by Saturday."

"Our anniversary," I whispered.

"Yes," he agreed, "our anniversary."

"It's really been ten years?" I said. It was not really a question. It was a statement of wonder.

"Yes," he maintained, pressing a tender kiss to my temple, "the best of my existence."

"I heard that!" Edward's teasing voice floated up the stairs. Carlisle looked at me as we both laughed lightly. Edward was certainly back; so was his personality.

"My three years with you were second best," Carlisle amended.

"I can live with that," Edward said, now standing in the doorway, watching us.

"Good," Carlisle and I said this at the same time. I considered asking Carlisle for permission for what I was about to say, until I remembered that I didn't need it. He would tell me it was my island, mine to rent out as I saw fit. I smiled at the thought.

"You're welcome to use it whenever you want," I told Edward. "Maybe, someday, you'll be going there for your anniversary, too."

He looked up at me with an exasperated expression.

"You'll believe me someday," I promised. "I would know," I added, "I never used to believe I'd find love, and here I am."

_Thanks for reading! Sorry it's been so long. Thank you to my reviewers: cecills, EliseShaw, Umbrella-ella, XOXO-RaNdoM-pIxIE-OXOX, babyk, alybee, MaryCullen95, Dragonridingattorney43, miss understood615, TrueImmortality, findthewill, and rem2014. Emily_


	10. The Hospital

The roads were uncharacteristically empty today; perhaps a reminder of the brutal weather that had plagued New York for the past week. I drove slowly enough to appear as a sane human. I did not share Edward or Carlisle's love of fast cars, and the ice on the road necessitated a slower pace regardless. As indestructible as we were, I still maintained some of the feminine concern for self preservation that the men of our race seemed to have left behind with their human existence.

Edward had been back for exactly five months, six days, and eight hours. He had appeared at our doorstep in Ashland the very day before we were to leave. My flawless memory can recall the moment as if I were now living it. Edward had appeared next to the car as I was preparing it for our departure, shakily replacing the last of our belongings before we said goodbye to the only home the three of us had lived in together. I scarcely thought before I pulled him into my arms and began to sob. Carlisle, alerted by the sound, came running outside to see what was wrong. As soon as he saw Edward, he embraced us both, and the three of us stood in a tight embrace, Edward mumbling apologies as we repeatedly assured him that it was all right, and that we had already forgiven him. After that day, we had driven as a family to Rochester, New York and our next home. Edward spent the time going over his solitary life and the guilt that had ultimately led him home. He admitted having missed us both terribly, and also having missed the stability and familiarity of a family. Carlisle waited to start work for a week after we arrived, so that he could spend time with us.

Carlisle's work, incidentally, was the reason that I was now driving. Once Edward felt more himself, he encouraged me to take this step and surprise Carlisle. Having the two of us plotting surprises like this was a happy reminder of our earlier days together, as well as a reminder that the days of his absence were over.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot distractedly, parking the car close to the door in case I needed to leave quickly. I stepped outside, tightening my scarf for show, and stepped towards the hospital's white doors. As soon as I entered, my throat flamed at the scent of blood. The stench of illness reminded the vampire in me that I was surrounded with easy prey. I carefully regained control of myself and walked slowly towards the reception desk, keeping my eyes pointedly away from all patients in the sitting room.

"I'm here to see Dr. Cullen," I said. The fifty-something woman at the desk smiled at me, eyes widened in something akin to recognition.

"Mrs. Cullen?" the assistant asked.

"Yes," I said, smiling, "how did you know?"

The assistant smiled again. "He has a picture of you on his desk. And he talks about you constantly. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I grinned at her. "It's lovely to meet you, as well,…"

"Caroline," she supplied.

"Then you must call me Esme," I said softly.

"His office is down that hall and to the left, number 102," she described, pointing to a bright corridor on my right.

"Thank you," I told her, turning towards the hall.

As I walked I was momentarily grateful that the hallway held only offices and was not covered in the same stench of blood that must have coated the rest of the hospital. I came to 102, a bright white door with a black plaque which read _102 Dr. C. Cullen_. I smiled and knocked on the door.

I was reading a case file for a new patient when a quiet knock interrupted my thoughts. There must have been a new patient who had come into the Emergency Room. Eager to treat a new patient, I stopped reading and breathed deeply. I noticed something unusual; my wife's scent registered. I signed it off as a simple sign that I missed her. She could not feasibly be in the hospital. I set the file down on my desk, stood, and called, "Come in,"

My mouth flew open in surprise as Esme appeared at the door, smiling beautifully behind the scarf and coat that she was forced to wear for appearance's sake. "Esme!" I exclaimed, rushing over to envelop her in a hug.

"Hello, Carlisle," she said, apparently amused at my excited response. "I just came to say hello. I had a lovely chat with one of the nurses…Caroline?"

"You are amazing," I said in wonder. "I cannot believe you can stand being here. And having a conversation with someone while being in the waiting room," I added, truly impressed. Most vampires would not have been able to stand the scent of blood and illness that surrounded a hospital. Esme always amazed me, and I truly believed she would never stop.

"How are you now?" I asked in concern, my hand trailing lightly over her neck.

"Alright, I suppose," she said. "I should probably leave soon. I just wanted to come and see you. Edward helped me plan."

I laughed at the mention of our scheming son, glad that the name no longer had any pain attached to it. "I am so glad he is back," I told her. Having Edward back made life so much better, it made me wonder how we had ever managed to live without him.

My thoughts were interrupted as I looked at Esme. She seemed growingly uncomfortable, and her throat was clenched tightly. I could understand why. On the floor below us, we could hear doctors preparing for the first round of surgeries that day.

"I should go," she whispered.

"I'll walk you out," I offered, kissing her forehead and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "You did wonderfully."

She smiled at my praise and leaned into my arm. I guided us to the door of my office, and we stepped into the hall together, my arms tightly around her. Caroline nodded to us as we passed, and Esme gave her an acknowledging smile as we exited the hospital. Grinning to myself, I wondered at the ease with which Esme made new friends. Once we had reached the car, I squeezed her hand gently before stepping away. As I released her, I whispered, "I am so proud of you."

I watched dutifully as she pulled away, still surprised that she had managed the visit. And thrilled, as well. It would be much easier to go to the hospital every evening knowing that she could come and visit. I was smiling as I reentered the hospital, and Caroline noticed.

"You miss her while you're here?" she asked.

"Very much," I replied.

"She seems wonderful," she said.

"She is," I agreed, turning towards my office and the patient file, musing, as I walked, about how wonderful my life truly felt.


	11. Flowers

"Esme?" I called, coming up to the house and entering the front door. The enthusiastic greeting I usually received upon my return home was strangely absent; Edward alone was visible from the entryway.

"Edward?" He looked up briefly from his book, and pointed to the new garden behind the house.

I grinned at his antics, shook my head, and slipped through the sliding doors to the garden.

Esme was bent over the ground, large collections of her flowers sprawled around her. Rosalie stood leaning against the house, watching silently with an indifferent expression on her face, much better than the glare she reserved for Edward, and for me. Of course, my wife had won her heart, at least in part. Perhaps it was their eerily similar pasts; perhaps only Esme's compassion. Whatever the reason, she was always at least partly calmer in Esme's presence. Some of this newfound calm had even transferred to me, though it was still painful each time she ignored me when I walked into a room. As she had for several weeks now, she looked up briefly when I arrived and then silently slipped away toward the forest.

Esme watched her go for a moment, and then turned and looked up at me apologetically.

"She'll come around," she said.

"It's alright," I assured her," I understand her anger. She's justified, to be mad at me."

She began to reply, but I spoke before she could.

"Did you ever feel that way, toward me? Do you ever regret it?"

"Carlisle…" she whispered, standing, "You've worried about that?"

I looked down faintly.

She placed her hand on my cheek, lifted my head, and smiled softly.

"I was in love with you already. I was mad for a moment, surely, but I could not stay that way for long. You gave me a second chance, a way to have a better life. How could I blame you for that?"

I embraced her tightly, burying my face in her hair.

"Don't worry about Rosalie," she soothed, "She just needs some time."

"Thank you," I whispered, taking a slow breath.

She smiled gently.

"What were you doing, when I came outside?"

She turned and pointed at the half-planted flowers lining a dirt rectangle.

"I was just planting these. I found them this morning and thought they were beautiful."

I nodded in agreement, watching as she picked one up.

"They also remind me of my life. Midnight blue centers that blend into a radiant white. Dark at the beginning; hopeful and bright for the rest."

I smiled, placed an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her closely to me.

"Shall I help you with the rest of them?" I asked. She looked up at me, and broke into a laugh.

"I love you, my dear, but you would probably do more harm to the flowers than good."

I shoved her arm playfully, and turned to go into the house.

She grabbed my hand, lifted herself to her tiptoes, and kissed me quickly before spinning around and returning to her flowers.

"Love you," she called, giggling slightly.

I could picture her grin. "Love you, too," I replied.

_Thanks to reviewers: cecills, EliseShaw, Umbrella-ella, XOXO-SethsImprint-OXOX, babyk, alybee, MaryCullen95, Dragonridingattorney43, miss understood615, TrueImmortality, rem2014, findthewill, annsteph, edwardplusbella620, madi, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, and Carlisle's favorite patient_

_Thanks for reading, Emily._


	12. Happiness

I was sure I was dreaming. Or at least, that was what I told myself. Not that I wanted to be. If only my mind, in its newfound abilities, could comprehend what I was feeling. It could not even comprehend the impossibility of a dream.

Happiness was a foreign concept. Foreign now for about a decade. Or, if I was being honest with myself, exactly twelve years. Because twelve years ago I had met him. I laughed at myself. Edward called me a hopeless romantic. Perhaps he was right.

But regardless of these intellectual musings, here I was, sitting on the beautiful porch of our home, admiring the lush, emerald treetops to my left and the sparkling stream to my right, about to read another one of his daily letters that he always managed to hide before he left in the evening.

_I'm glad you're enjoying the view in the backyard, Mrs. Cullen, but I assure you, you're much more beautiful. I hope you enjoy your evening. _

_Miss you,_

_Carlisle_

I grinned, reading it over by the dim light of the still-hiding sun. The letter went into my sizeable collection, and I returned to my seat.

Today I had saved the letter for the morning and consequently, both Edward and my husband were set to return within the hour. I glanced longingly at the empty road, then returned to my admiration of the scenery.

Inspired by the beautiful colors of dawn, I returned to the house for my sketchpad and pencils, and began to draw.

I had barely marked the slowly shifting colors of the forest when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist and a kiss on my neck.

"Carlisle!" With an exasperated sigh, I spun my head around, "you shouldn't sneak up on me like that."

He grinned."Oh, shouldn't I?"

I shoved his chest playfully. "I was concentrating."

"Oh, you were," he whispered into my ear, "my apologies to the artist."

I laughed and began to shut the sketchbook. He caught my hand.

"May I look?" I nodded silently. His hands traced the figures as he looked up to find the corresponding features of our yard.

"It's beautiful."

"Thank you," I replied. Then, as an afterthought, " But you're much more pleasant to look at."

He threw his head back with a laugh. "So I can assume you found my letter."

"Carlisle, do you really think I would be amusing myself with such distractions as sketching if I hadn't yet?"

"I suppose not," he conceded.

He replaced the arm that had been around my waist, and turned to study my face.

"The scenery can never be your match," he repeated.

"You sound like a lofty poet," I informed him.

"Be that as it may," he replied, "it's true. And how do you know that I wasn't one, back in the day?"

Edward called from the front door, "Yes, along with the _Stregoni Benefici_ legend, perhaps I should suggest to one of my professors that you deserve the credit for Shakespeare."

My husband gave Edward a playful glare as we passed through the house to meet him.

"You're home!" I exclaimed, leaving Carlisle's arms briefly to give Edward a hug, before he settled at the piano.

Happiness was now my reality.

_Sorry for the wait (and sorry I say that so much), and thanks for reading. As a little joke, for people who are familiar with it, the "lofty poet" line of Carlisle's is in iambic pentameter, which is the meter used by (guess who) Shakespeare._

_All reviews mean a lot. Thanks to reviewers: cecills, EliseShaw, Umbrella-ella, XOXO-SethsImprint-OXOX, babyk, alybee, MaryCullen95, Dragonridingattorney43, miss understood615, TrueImmortality, rem2014, findthewill, annsteph, edwardplusbella620, madi, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, Carlisle's favorite patient, alicecullen5, favludo_


	13. The Elm Leaf

On Valentine's Day, Carlisle didn't buy me roses or chocolates. The latter would have been wasted; the former beautiful, but not unique.

I never felt that we needed a holiday as a reminder of our love. But he did always manage to find one thing that I never grew tired of receiving.

On Valentine's Day, no matter where we were living, he found an elm leaf with the yellow-orange tint of fall.

The first year we were together, he left it by the front door for me to find once he left for work. I had smiled as I gently fingered the stem and stared absently at the door. A note was posted on the door next to where the leaf had been. It read:

_A little reminder of how we met._

I smiled. _Of course, _I thought, _on my family's farm, during my childhood, elms covered the grounds. I had loved to climb them. And one day, I fell and broke my leg. He was the doctor who treated me._

When Rosalie joined us, I never told her our story until that Valentine's Day, when she asked me what the leaf meant; one of the first times she actively asked me anything. I shared my story from start to finish, aware, at times, that our lives had eerie similarities.

Alice asked me on their second day with our family; she had seen me receiving each gift, and wondered what they were for, revealing that she often wished she could see the past. I shared my story yet again, enjoying her enthusiasm and enjoyment of family.

Bella didn't ask until the first time we had a private conversation in the months after Edward proposed. She had asked Edward what Carlisle gave me for Valentine's Day, and he had apparently told her to ask me. I shared my story with my third daughter, smiling at her realization that we were the only two of the Cullen family to meet our spouses as humans.

I expect Nessie will ask soon why Grandpa gives me a silly leaf as a present.

It is now February 13th, 2010, and I am looking at the place on the door where my husband will undoubtedly leave me my eighty-ninth amber elm leaf tomorrow, thinking about my beautiful family, sure that I will never tire of the gesture.

_Just a short one for Valentine's Day . Enjoy, and thanks for reading._

_Thanks to reviewers: cecills, EliseShaw, Umbrella-ella, XOXO-SethsImprint-OXOX, babyk, alybee, MaryCullen95, Dragonridingattorney43, miss understood615, TrueImmortality, rem2014, findthewill, annsteph, edwardplusbella620, madi, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, Carlisle's favorite patient, alicecullen5, favludo, MsEsmeBlack, JessLeo89, Mari Platt, Veggie-Vampire90, JezCul666, and astacia._


	14. The Falls

Chapter 14: The Falls

"No peeking," my wife chided. I could feel the swish of air as she turned her head to glance at me, and could easily picture her lips curving into a smirk.

I sighed dramatically, let my head fall back onto the headrest, and contented myself with picturing a map of the area and calculating, based on the average speed of the car and the slope of hill we were currently climbing, our possible locations. I decided that we had probably travelled about 270 miles in the seven-odd hours since we left our northern Vermont home. Esme, like the rest of us, enjoyed driving quickly (Our three sons had a habit of pushing their cars until the needle on the speedometer appeared to be flying off), but she appreciated taking her time when the same was expected of humans, and it seemed, from all the swerving I could feel, that we were on an irregular road. That, at least, narrowed it down a little. I had just started to consider whether Maine, Connecticut, or New York was more likely when my wife interrupted me with a laugh.

"What?" I asked, the fabric of my blindfold scratching against my cheeks.

"I was just wondering what people would think, seeing a woman driving with an apparently perfectly content, albeit slightly confused, man sitting next to her and wearing a blindfold."

I smiled. "I believe taking it off would ruin the fun." I was enjoying this side of my wife, and I truly did not care where she was taking us.

"Yes." I could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm sure Alice thought to check that I wouldn't be arrested."

We rode in silence for a few minutes.

"Have you formed a hypothesis yet, Doctor?" she asked cheerfully.

"What?" I replied, perhaps with a little too much disbelief in my voice.

Esme laughed again. "I know you. You solve problems methodically. I'm sure at this point you've figured out how far we've gone and you have a list of possible destinations."

"I have some ideas."

"Let's hear them, then."

"New York?"

"City?"

"All right."

"No."

"Hartford?"

"No."

"New York?"

"I'm not ruling out an entire state." She laughed and reached to squeeze my shoulder affectionately. "Ten more minutes."

" Now, listen," she commanded gently.

I closed my eyes more tightly shut and focused on the noises around me. At first, all I could hear was the thrum of the engine and the soft flow of air as Esme breathed in and out. Then, though it was distant and faint, I was aware of the sound of water, rippling and splashing as it rushed across stones.

"Water?" I verbalized my observation. Esme was silent. The car came to a halt, and the sound became more prevalent.

I could hear Esme speed around the car. My door opened with a click and my wife reached in to grasp my hand and help me up. She pulled me with her wordlessly, pushing the car door shut on the way. The sound was deafening, now. She led me up stone steps, still not allowing me to look. When we stopped I had the sense that we were several hundred feet higher than where we began.

"You can look now," Esme whispered, barely audible over the rush of what I now assumed was a waterfall. I felt the thick blindfold being slipped of my face, opened my eyes, and gasped. Before us, a river careened off a cliff and down into a gorge 800 feet below. I inhaled some of the mist that sprayed my face, my eyes widening at the exquisiteness of the tumbling blue and white rapids against the verdant forest. The last bits of sunlight on this cloudy day illuminated black stones that lined the edges of the falls as the water vanished into a clear pool below.

"It's beautiful," I murmured, looking back at my wife. She smiled in return and sat on an outcropping just in front of us for a better view.

"Humans can't really get up here very easily, so we should be by ourselves."

I nodded absently as I dropped to the ground beside her. For several minutes, I stared at the falls and let the powerful sound of rushing water fill my mind. I had always loved waterfalls. They were my favorite of the natural wonders. I had always been fascinated by the way they combined magnificent force with an indescribable beauty. They were dangerous, at least to more fragile beings than me, but they were also magnificent, and they did not scare nature, nor did they obtrude into it. They belonged.

"Is this because I mentioned last week that I miss seeing the waterfall behind our last home?"

Esme looked up at me with a smile that made me certain I was correct.

"_Thank you._" I pressed a kiss to her brow and nuzzled my face into her hair. "Though this is hardly necessary."

I could feel her grin against my forehead. "Carlisle, are you feeling outdone?" she teased. I pulled back to look at her, and shrugged.

"You bought me an _island_ for our tenth anniversary. I think you still have me beat in the grand gesture category."

"I suppose so," I conceded, "although I believe I enjoyed that trip quite as much as you did."

She laughed and playfully pushed against my arm.

"So where are we, anyway?"

"Northern Maine," she said. "Jasper read about it, and he knows how much you love waterfalls. We might have to come live near here, someday."

I nodded in agreement. She settled her head in my lap, a contented smile on her face. I looked up at my wonderful surprise, and back down at the precious creature who had given it to me. "I love you," I told her.

"I know," she replied, her eyes falling shut. "I love you, too."

"I know," I answered with a smile, brushing some of her now damp hair behind her ear.

"Still, a grand gesture is fun, every once in a while."

"Yes," I agreed, "it is."

"Your turn," she joked.

We laughed together, the musical tones of our voices melding perfectly with those of the falls.

_Thanks for reading!_

_By the way, in case you're interested, there is actually a waterfall in Maine that I have in mind, called Katahdin Falls. It is around 800 feet high, and is very hard to get to._


	15. The Truth About Happy Endings

_So…this is significantly longer than these chapters usually are. It's not quite in the same style as the other chapters, but it is still, in my mind, a Carlisle/Esme story, just with a few other things mixed in. Thanks for reading, and enjoy! Emily_

Chapter 15: The Truth About Happy Endings

Renesmee looked so peaceful, laying there, her lips twisted into a smile at some pleasant dream. I was so caught up in watching her that I barely heard Bella approach and slip her hand gently into mine. I had been here, I realized, for at least an hour. Bella squeezed my hand and I turned to give her a soft smile.

"This must be hard for you," she whispered.

"In some ways," I replied truthfully. "But I truly am content. Such a blessing for us all. My life seems always to be filled with miracles." And it did. "Surviving to find Carlisle again," I mused, "getting to know each of my children-you, Bella, and your gentle strength, Edward's brooding—" Bella cracked a grin. "Rosalie's intensity, Emmett's enthusiasm, Alice's unstoppable joy, Jasper's quiet reflection, and of course little Renesmee here." I glanced at my sleeping granddaughter. "Being _happy_ once more. I would never have dreamed, in the darkest days of my first marriage, that I would end up _here_, with the man I had always loved and six wonderful children, and now a beautiful granddaughter." Bella looked at least somewhat confused.

"Did Edward not tell you my story?" I asked, slightly started.

Bella's eyebrows bent down in what I guessed was an effort to remember details from her human life. She shook her head after a few seconds. "No, nothing except what we discussed that day at the baseball field. And he told me how old you were when you were changed, when he thought I was worried about being older than him." She grinned. I laughed with her. "Yes, I suppose it is true that I am physically older than Carlisle, although, seeing as he was born in the middle of the 17th century and I was born at the very end of the 19th, I'm not sure that physical age counts for much."

Bella smiled again at my assessment. "I think…I think Edward wanted to allow all of you to tell your stories on your own. He wanted each of you to bring me into your world by your own choice. Even when he told me Carlisle's story, he offered Carlisle the chance to do so first. And that story was necessary to explain even the beginnings of Edward's."

I nodded. Bella's eyes widened a bit. "I didn't, that is, I don't mean that you have to tell me your story, if you don't want to."

I smiled kindly at my youngest daughter. "I _do_ want to, Bella. You should know my story—we are family."

"Yes," she said softly. "You said 'finding Carlisle again'—you knew him before?"

My lips curved up at the memory. "I believe the way we met could rival any of your favorite Austen novels." I shot a glance at Bella's left hand, where one such worn copy was resting. Her eyes followed mine, and then looked up at me expectantly. "I grew up in Columbus, Ohio—did Edward tell you that part?" She shook her head. "Anyway, I was rather stubborn as a child, and I liked to climb trees. One day, just after I turned 16, my foot slipped while I was climbing this huge elm just in front of our house, and I broke my leg. My parents took me to the local hospital…"

I could see the flash of intuition in her eyes, understanding what my son meant when he claimed to see her thoughts reflected within them. "Carlisle treated you, didn't he?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes. He was quite—what did you call it? Dazzling? He was kind to me, I'm sure the way he was and is kind to each of his patients. I was not used to kindness, at least, not kindness given so freely." Bella studied my face. "I never forgot him."

"So I'm not the only Cullen woman to meet my husband while still human." She seemed happily reassured by this statement, as though she was glad that someone _finally_ understood.

"No, you are not," I agreed, "although your experiences were much more substantial. It was time for him to leave that month. He seemed so lonely then. Now I know that he was. I did not see him again for ten years." We were coming to the tragedy in my story. I saw Bella frown at the sentiment in my last statement, though I was not surprised. That period in Edward and Bella's relationship was a dark cloud that still hovered over them both from time to time.

"In any case," I continued, "that incident frustrated my parents. Tree climbing was fine when I was a little girl, but by the time I was sixteen, I was supposed to be looking for a husband, not acting like a tomboy. My parents were displeased, and I understood, to a point, that they simply wanted the best for me, that they expected me to behave in the way in which a young lady was expected. You know, Bella, I am sure, that women had very little choice back then."

She nodded minutely. "I wanted to become a teacher, to work with children. I could not find a man I liked enough to marry. After Carlisle's compassion, no one could measure up." Bella smiled knowingly.

"So I spent several years at home. My father would not allow me to be a teacher. I was getting older, old enough, in that time, that my parents began to despair of finding me a husband at all. In March of 1917, the son of a family friend who I had known, though not intimately, offered me his hand in marriage. My parents were overjoyed. I was 22 at that point, a burden to my family. Charles Evenson had good prospects. They pressured me to accept him. I was certain that my father would never allow me to teach and that I would never see the elusive Dr. Cullen again, and so I agreed. I wanted children, after all, and even if I felt no particular inclination towards Charles, I would love my sons and daughters. We were married in April."

"You don't have to continue," Bella whispered, and I realized that my jaw had tightened and my hands were gripping Renesmee's crib with almost enough force to break it. I gently released the wooden frame and forced my muscles to relax.

"I'm all right," I answered. I drew myself back into the story, determined to finish this part quickly, for it was not something I enjoyed making anyone listen to. "Before we were married, I was indifferent to him, but he was never unkind. He was a gentleman and treated me with respect. But after…" I shuddered. "After, he was very different. He was abusive. He forced himself on me, beat me…"

Bella drew an arm around my shoulder in comfort. I offered her a weak smile. "I told my parents what he was doing. I expected them to protect their daughter, to help me. But they did not. They blamed me, they told me I was at fault, that I should endeavor to be a better wife, and not anger him so much."

"How horrible," she murmured.

I nodded. "I was enraged, at first. But then, under his abuse and their indifference, I began to believe it, too. I was depressed and weak and had nowhere to turn. I blamed myself just as they did. The War saved me."

"World War I?" Bella asked, shaking her head in disbelief. I nodded absentmindedly. "It's still strange to image all of you living through these great historical events that I've only every seen on the pages of textbooks."

"Yes, I imagine it would be." I remembered feeling the same way when Carlisle talked about the Protestant Reformation as if it had happened yesterday. I was grateful, too, for the brief break from the gravity of my tale. "It was the Great War, to me, and you might remember from history class that Congress passed the Selective Service Act in May…" She nodded. "Charles was drafted in July. For nineteen months, I was free. I found myself again. I even discovered some of the hobbies I continue to pursue today. I took out architecture books and drawing books from the local library and came home every night with the freedom to do as I wished. I always feared, though, that one day I would come home to find him there, waiting for me, his hand raised to strike me once again. But as the months stretched on and he did not come, I felt safer in the knowledge that I was free of him. I am ashamed of it, now, but I hoped that he would die in the trenches. I hoped that I could be free forever. It was naïve of me, perhaps, but I hoped for the best."

"It wasn't naïve, Esme," Bella reassured. "And it is nothing to be ashamed of, either, to wish to be free of a monster."

"Thank you, Bella," I replied, impressed again by her kind heart. She would know, by now, that he had to have returned, for she knew that I had a child before I was changed. "He came back in February of 1919, a few months after the war ended. The bitterness of that fighting, Bella…it changed all of those who went to Europe. They called mine the 'lost generation'. In Charles's case, it made him even more violent. I was losing my feeling of self-worth again. I didn't know what to do. And then, a little over a year later, I discovered that I was pregnant. I remember the horror of the realization, the fear that I felt for my unborn child. Suddenly, what I had never been willing to do for myself, I was willing to do for my baby. I took what little money I had saved, waited until Charles left for work one morning, and I ran."

"The next few months were not so bad. I stayed, at first, with a distant relative, but she eventually gave in to my parents and told them where I was. I left the day she mailed the letter and boarded a train for as far north as I could go with my money. I got off in Ashland, Wisconsin. I still had my ring, so I pretended to be a war widow. I fit right into the town. And finally, I got to teach—I worked at the local school. I found peace. I never saw them, but Edward and Carlisle were there, too. Carlisle later told me that they moved to Ashland in 1919, a year before me and the year after Edward's change. He was not an uncontrollable newborn, then, but he could not go out in Chicago for fear of being recognized."

Bella smiled at the mention of the man who would become her husband.

"You know that I had a son. I was so blissfully happy. It seemed that I had gotten what I wanted." I glanced at Renesmee, still sleeping peacefully in her cot. "I had a child, I was free of Charles, I was teaching. Carlisle came into my mind on and off but he would have been in his forties, by my count, and in any case I was afraid of men. I would mend, I thought. I would raise my son here in peace, and protect him from dangers where my parents had failed to protect me." I took a deep breath. This was the hardest part of my story for me, every time I told it. These next few sentences were equally as difficult to say now as they had been when I told this story to Carlisle and to Edward in the weeks after my change.

"I had a week of happiness. And then…human beings are so very _fragile_, Bella. Just as rain clouds can darken a sunny day in a matter of seconds, so did my life darken. My son—I had not named him yet, for I knew not what to call him—caught a lung infection and died twenty-four hours later. "

Bella ran a hand through her daughter's hair. "I was lost, Bella, so lost." I sobbed once. "You know what I chose to do. I jumped."My daughter turned around and embraced me tightly. We held each other for several seconds, a mother who had felt loss and one who could comprehend exactly how it would feel. "Thank you," I managed after a moment.

"I think we're more similar than I thought," she murmured.

"Yes." I had thought of that, in the three days when I had almost lost three more of my children forever. I did not bring it up because I knew the memory would upset her as much as it upset me. "I promise we are almost to a hopeful beginning," I continued, "just as yours is." Her eyes flitted back to her daughter for a fraction of a second.

"I remember very little of that time at the bottom of the cliff. I remember some of the pain. I remember that the air was very cold. I remember voices, men who found me and took me to the hospital. It was all very faint, dreamlike, almost. It all feels so very far away, but most of all, I remember the feeling. Everything was hazy, like I was smothered beneath miles upon miles of heavy mist, and I could not claw through. Then suddenly, I was flying, soaring through the air in cold, gentle arms. The next thing I can recall is the pain—you understand that."

Bella's eyes widened. I grinned. "Bella, I understand why you were quiet better than you think. I am telling you this story while Carlisle and Edward are out for a reason. It tortures them, to hear it. It tortured them when I first told them, in 1921, and it tortures them now. I have never seen Carlisle truly, fiercely angry at anyone, but what he felt, what he feels, towards Charles, is close. And Edward, well, you know him, you can imagine."

"Yes," she agreed.

"I spare them the pain, not because I am keeping the burden to myself, but because they carry enough of it with them already for the rest of eternity. Perhaps you, like me, understand the guilt complex that they so unnecessary carry. Carlisle, especially, felt guilty for leaving me to such a life in 1911, for not saving me from the pain." I scoffed, "As if he could have known what would happen to me. And Edward felt guilty, too, though for even less logical reasons. He was sorry that he intruded upon my thoughts; sorry that he had not helped me. Sorry that he could only ever be a replacement son. But I never thought of him that way. My heart has always had room to love him for _him_. It took him a long time to understand that. Perhaps he only ever did because he could read my thoughts and see that sentiment there."

"Their thoughts have mixed so much over the years," she mused, "I wonder who started the disturbing prevalence of _that _emotion."

I laughed. "Yes, it's rather too bad that they sometimes feed off of each other. The guilt-Carlisle does not take it quite so far as Edward, I think, but then, Edward always was more melodramatic, and Carlisle has lived far longer. But I'm sure you would like to hear the happy ending."

Bella smiled slightly in expectation.

"Carlisle had found me in the morgue—they thought I was dead, but he could hear my heart still beating. He recognized me, remembered the sixteen-year-old Esme Platt who laughed readily and climbed trees, compared her with the broken woman I had become, and could not bear to leave someone who had once been so happy, so full of life, to die. While I was burning, Carlisle sat with me, spoke to me, explained what was happening. The voice was familiar, but I was sure, at first, that I was in Hell. I had committed suicide. Of course I could not be allowed to be with my son, though I had still entertained hopes… I assumed that my mind had conjured the most comforting voice of my memory to be with me. As time passed, I began to truly listen to what the voice was saying, to understand what was happening to me. I was shocked when I opened my eyes to find his golden ones just inches away. I recognized him, my personal angel on Earth. Somehow, my mind could recall his name, 'Carlisle?'."

I continued softly, speaking to myself as much as to my daughter. "Perhaps I have my own kind of fate. I have fallen from great heights twice in my life, and both times it led me to him."

"It's a beautifully hopeful story," Bella said.

"Yes, I suppose it is," I agreed, reaching down to adjust Renesmee's tangled blanket.

"Thank you, Esme, for wanting to share it with me."

"Of course."

We both turned to the front of the house when we heard a car approaching. Several seconds later, Carlisle appeared in the doorway.

Bella smiled at us from a few feet away. "Esme's just told me her—your-story," she explained.

My husband stepped closer to me. He slipped his arms around my waist from behind and settled his face in the crook of my neck.

"I love you," he mumbled into my skin.

"I love you, too," I answered.

"It's a beautiful story," Bella added after two or three seconds.

Carlisle lifted his head to see her.

"Yes, it is, isn't it."

Edward walked in just as Carlisle finished his statement. He pressed a kiss to the top of Bella's head, then walked to the crib next to her and did the same to Renesmee's forehead.

"To happy endings that make the pain worthwhile," he whispered to his daughter's sleeping form.

I settled more deeply into my husband's embrace, a smile on my face. Yes, that was a truth I could easily accept.

_Thank you for reading! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and has reviewed anything I've written. Reviews make my day._

_Emily_


	16. Sunlight

They were walking on a winding path entirely of their own making, the rays of cloudy sunlight peeking through random gaps in the trees and the mossy ground crinkling beneath their feet. Their joined hands were warm from the sun.

Esme tilted her head back, her face peaceful as she took in the strips of visible sky and her husband's face content as he watched her.

"Do you miss that we never got to know our children when they were young?" she asked, quite suddenly.

Carlisle studied her face with interest. "I'm not sure…I think about that, sometimes, but I find it hard to imagine anything other than what we already have."

She nodded in agreement. "Yes, I know what you mean."

"It's fun to picture sometimes, though," Carlisle added, laughing lightly. "Edward, sullenly refusing to go to bed because he had a book he wanted to finish…Rosalie combing her curls for hours on end…Emmett tackling his brothers in football…"

"…Alice bemusing everyone she saw with her energy," Esme continued, "…Jasper sitting at the table as he watched his mother cook…Bella tripping over nothing as a toddler and bumping her head."

Carlisle shook his head fondly. "What a family we have."

"They were children, in a way, when they began this life. Children have the most interesting way of putting things together…of taking one piece of conversation they heard days ago and reconciling it with something they read to form an explanation that could be true, but isn't. The first few days of this...when everything is new and confusing and scary, it is almost like childhood."

He nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is. Though children would perhaps be more accepting of the change than adults, who are so set in their beliefs, ever can be."

Esme laughed, the sun throwing light off the slender line of her neck. "Adults see something incredible, something impossible, and decide they are dreaming because they cannot explain it within their understanding of the world."

Carlisle finished the thought. "And children see something incredible and decide they must have misunderstood the world, and change their world view to include whatever it was that, ten minutes ago, could not have happened."

Esme pulled them to the edge of the brook that had been their destination, gracefully leaping onto the rock that they usually sat on and sliding over so that her husband could join her.

"That is the key, I believe, to the difference between adults and children. Children get older and older and, somewhere along the way, the world gets less magical. It's a shame we lose that." She stretched her hand below them, allowing a few fingers to run into the stream of water and change its course. The sun produced dazzling colors as both the water and her hand reflected light in thousands of different directions.

Carlisle placed his hand next to her in the water, watching intently as their hands produced a new pattern together, the water bubbling and splashing against their palms. "The world is always magical," Carlisle observed, their fingers brushing together for a moment, "just in different ways."

They both watched as a cloud covered the sunlight, the bouncing light momentarily silenced, and then moved on, restoring rich color to the forest. A heavy wind strengthened the current, pushing Esme's hand downstream into Carlisle's. Esme laughed melodiously at the episode as Carlisle's hand moved to enclose hers.

"Yes," she agreed, weaving their fingers together. "Yes, it is."

_Thanks for reading, and thank you especially to those of you who have left reviews. I truly appreciate it. Emily._


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